


Fear Fair

by cellard00rs



Series: CSAC series [12]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: Stan, Ford, and Preston go to the fair where a lot of fears are unearthed.





	Fear Fair

 

There’s a multitude of lights. Red, blue, yellow, green – they flash and dance and Preston turns around in a circle as he looks at all of them. The air is filled with talking, happy screeches, the scent of funnel cakes, hot dogs, popcorn and cotton candy. 

He looks so dazed that Stan rolls his eyes, “C’mon, prince. I know you’re high upper class, but you’ve been to a fair before, right?”

Preston slowly shakes his head, still lost in everything around him and Ford grins, “That’s why I invited him, Stanley. I thought this’d be a great date for the three of us.”

“ _You_ thought that?” Now it’s Stan’s turn to look shocked and Ford colors, “Hey, I have a lot of great ideas!”

“Yeah, ‘bout science, maybe – dates? Not so much,” Stan eyes him with great speculation, “You stole this idea from me, didn’t ya?”

Ford starts to sputter but Stan snaps his fingers, “That’s right! I’M the one who told you about this shindig in the first place! Remember, I joked about tossing down my open guitar case and making some extra bank!”

“Which you could have done, if you so chose,” Ford argues, pushing up his glasses, “If you’ll recall, this fair is an ongoing event! Still plenty of days to get your name out there, maybe sell a few EPs…”

“Eh, I’ll think about it,” Stan mutters but now it’s his turn to color. Stan is amazingly self-conscious about his solo album. Whenever Ford or Preston press him to promote it, he’s done his very best to change the subject or just dodge the issue in general. 

Ford frowns, why won’t his brother push his work? He’s heard the album – several times in fact. It’s _awesome_. But Stan seems so…ashamed of it.

Ashamed and eager to move away from the touchy subject, “This whole setup reminds me a lot of the boardwalk back home. Same rickety rides and everything. Bet a bunch of junkies pull the switches here too.”

Stan chuckles and Preston still looks as if he’s fallen down a rabbit hole. Ford playfully pokes him, “You okay?”

Preston just nods, “It’s…very bohemian.”

“Jesus,” Stan mumbles and reaches into his flannel shirt breast pocket to pull out a pack of candy cigarettes. It’s his latest attempt to get over his smoking habit. The candy isn’t so easy to get, considering the fear that it’ll motivate the youth of America to smoke, but Preston managed to order several cartons from the internet. 

Stan’s been tearing through them like crazy and now is no exception. He pops one thin, candy stick in his mouth and chews the tip noisily, “So, what the hell we going on first?”

“Going-?” Preston’s eyes grow large, “Wait…you want to _ride_ one of these monstrosities?!”

“’Course.”

“B-But you just said yourself their safety standards are below subpar!”

“Yeah. Guess I did say something like that,” Stan’s eyes twinkle, “Lord knows, if _I’d_ built this place, I’d spare _every_ expense! I’d just slap a buncha fake safety inspection certificates on anything that looked like a lawsuit. Like – oh!”

He points to a large pirate boat that is spinning in rapid circles, screaming patrons inside occasionally hanging upside down as it makes its rotations. Preston looks as if he’ll faint dead away on the spot. 

Ford merely grins and it’s at this moment that Preston remembers that not just one, but _both_ Pines twins are utterly mad, adrenaline junkies. He starts shaking his head, but both Ford and Stan take one arm each, easily escorting him towards his most certain death.

“Don’t worry, Pres. We’ll be fine,” Ford reassures him and Stan nods, “You bet! Besides, rides aren’t any fun less you’re takin’ yer life in your hands!”

Preston knows he’s committed many sins in his lifetime, but honestly? He has no idea what he’s done to deserve this.

 

+

 

The Octopus, the Tilt-A-Whirl, the Caterpillar, the Roller Coaster (actually even named ‘Ol’ Questionable’) – there’s not a wild ride they don’t hit that makes Preston sweat. They ask him again and again if there isn’t something that appeals to him. 

Stan even shoves them on to the carousel, thinking that’ll be the ticket, but Preston is less than impressed by the collection of horses, muttering under his breath about how he’s ridden his fair share of fine steads in his life and none of them wore such ridiculous pageantry.

Ford, thinking more outside the box, takes them to the House of Mirrors and the Haunted Tunnel but, again, nothing really seems to capture Preston’s interest until he sees the swings. 

This is where the tables really turn, because Stanley’s absolutely adamant that he will not get on the ride. Preston scowls, “Look, I am well aware of your fear of heights, but I have had to combat many of my own phobias this evening in order to make this event a success! Now it’s _your_ turn!”

“ _Your_ phobias are simple stuff! Like spinning in circles and being around decent, salt of the earth people! Mine – and might I add, I don’t _have_ one, but if I _did_ – mine, would be something that could – y’know – lead to an actual real and bloody  _death_.”

“Oh, like we didn’t almost perish on the bumper cars!” Preston argues and Stan damn near swallows his latest candy cigarette whole at that remark, “Hey, _you_ hit _me_! And hard as fuck too!”

“That’s because the hydraulics or-or whatever system they use on those things are chaotic! Not to mention the electrical sparks that rained down upon on us like acid rain!”

“And I’m tellin’ ya – that probably wouldn’t of happened if you didn’t smack me so hard I felt my teeth rattle! Hell, think you pounded me in the ass harder with that car than you’ve ever done with your dick!”

Ford, who was unfortunately drinking an Icee at this moment, spits out a large spray of blue. Both Ford and Preston catch this and chuckle, even though Preston clears his throat after, to say sagely, “Yes, well…if that _is_ the case, remind me to try… _harder…_ in the future.”

Both Ford and Stan look at him with genuine surprise. Ford wipes his lips, “Preston! That’s…you…openly…flirted about your-? About our-?”

“Yes, yes, well,” Preston kicks out at the ground, his hands descending into the pockets of his khakis, “I _am_ doing my best to become more comfortable with myself, aren’t I? With our…expanded relationship.”

“Ya did good, my prince,” Stan assures him, then nudges Ford, “Now make some sexy remark about something ya’d like to do to Ford.”

“ _Oh_!” Ford feels his cheeks heat, “I-I-!”

“Stanley, there is nothing I _wouldn’t_ like to do to Ford,” Preston returns smoothly and Stan hoots and applauds while Ford ducks his head. Preston, feeling silly and sort of overwhelmed, pats the top of Ford’s beanie, as if this will make up for his salacious remark. As if there is anything to make up for.

Ford bumps their shoulders together and sneaks in a quick kiss. Preston blinks, his whole face turning red and – despite his earlier boasts – he looks around worriedly. _Ah, baby steps_ , Ford thinks and he turns to Stan, “So – what do you say, Stan? Want to give the swings a go? Face your fears?”

“I’m not afraid of them,” Stan argues, jabbing an angry finger in the direction of the ride, as if it’s personally offending him, “I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Not even of putting your album out?” Ford hears himself ask this then winces.

Shit.

Fuck.

Why did he-?

Stan stands up straight. All levity flees and the mood dips drastically. Ford’s mouth starts flapping frantically, “Stanley! Wait! I-I didn’t mean-!”

“Fuck it,” Stan grumbles and he reaches for another candy cigarette only to find the pack empty. He grunts, crumples it in one hand and tosses it to the ground before charging off. Ford gets ready to go after him but Preston catches his shoulder, “Hey, easy, easy!”

"But, Preston, I-!”

“I know, I know,” Preston offers softly, “You didn’t mean to. But you should just…just give him some time. He’ll come around.”

“But…but what if-!”

“He won’t leave,” Preston promises, “Your brother is many things, but he’s not someone who would ever abandon you. Not ever.”

 _He has before_ , Ford thinks sadly, remembering when Stan left to join Rick for some time. As if hearing his thoughts, Preston murmurs, “Or, better to say, not ever again. He just needs to cool off. Let’s give him that. Come on…he didn’t really want to go on the ride anyway.”

Ford takes a deep breath, still looking off in the direction Stan left in. Finally he nods and lets Preston ease him into the line for the swings.

 

+

 

When they exit Preston looks as if he’s lost in some blissful haze.  He doesn’t say a word, but he’s got a wistful smile about his face as he and Ford move through the rambling crowds, searching for Stanley.

Ford finds himself torn between a wildly different set of emotions. Worry for Stan and interest in what’s going on in Preston’s head. Considering he’s with one and not the other, he gives into the latter, “You seem…ah, at peace?”

Preston doesn’t meet his eyes, “It’s true I’ve never been to a fair, but I have been to amusement parks. The swings have always appealed to me.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and his expression is distant, “I’ve always liked that weightless feeling…the sight of my legs hanging out high above the ground, spreading out my arms, the wind in my hair…it’s always felt like flying to me. Like…something transcendent and when I was very, very young I…”

He stops and looks awkward, but Ford can’t help but press, “When you were young?”

Preston hesitates, before he finally manages, “When I was young, one of my nannies was quite religious. Stern. My father liked that about her. Kept her for some time, but then dismissed her when he worried her beliefs were too zealous. That they might contaminate me. And they did, in a fashion, because she spoke to me once – only once, I might add – of Heaven. Normally she loved to reference Hell. Fire and brimstone and never ending torment and how surely I would go there if I didn’t do this or that or…”

Preston sucks in a breath and tosses his head from side to side, as if to lose the memory, “But she spoke of Heaven once and made some blithe remark about how my mother could be there and so when I’m on that ride…”

Ford stops walking to take one of Preston’s hands. He takes it and squeezes it, “That’s beautiful.”

Preston merely shrugs and looks as if he wishes he hadn’t said anything. Ford can’t help himself. He tugs hard on Preston’s hand, stopping him full and turns him, taking his face into his hands to kiss him. Preston lets out a surprised little hum as Ford’s tongue parts his lips, meets his. Preston seems reluctant to kiss back, shy, and Ford knows he hears the mumbles of the people around him, so he angles his head, deepens the kiss, moaning.

Preston shivers and his hands score up Ford’s back, taking handfuls of his hoodie and gripping it tight as he finally, _seriously_ , returns the kiss. Ford moans again, louder this time, and the kiss is quickly growing heated, passionate, and it seems as if nothing will break it up until someone clears their throat very loudly near them. 

They break apart to see Stan standing there and Ford gasps, “Stanley! Thank goodness! I was so worried about-!”

“You ain’t doin’ it right,” Stan returns and before Ford can ask Stan drags Preston over and devours his mouth, hands openly groping his ass. Hard. Preston lets out a startled groan and Ford just laughs. Stan lets Preston go, then he turns on Ford, face angry, “I ain’t afraid!”

“I know, Stanley.”

“I ain’t afraid of that ride, of kissing him in public, or of bein’ with you!”

Ford frowns, confused, “Afraid of-?”

“You’re standing there pointing out my fears and his like you don’t have none and I call bullshit,” Stan grumbles, “Or has it never occurred to you that you’ve not once – not _ever_ – kissed _me_ like that in public!”

Ford swallows, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as he looks down, “Stan, I…”

“Don’t,” Stan returns sharply and he takes one of Preston’s arms, tugging him away, “‘S _my_ turn to escort Pres around. How’s about _you_ take some time, huh?”

 

+

 

They end up at a game booth and Stan’s popping balloons with arrows so ferociously that the guy running the booth steps back, clearly worried he’s going to become a target. 

Stan’s grumbling and growling under his breath. Broken, muttered words of anger and Preston lets him go for a while before he lays a gentle hand on one of his shoulders, “You done yet?”

“Done with what?” Stan snaps and he tosses another arrow, the sound of the balloon popping loud and abrasive. He smacks more money on the counter, “More arrows!”

“S-sir, you’ve already won…” the guy holds out a strange looking stuffed toy that looks like a cross between an owl and a rhino. Stan snarls, “I don’t want _that_ one! I want _that_ one!”

He points to the toy above his head that is, to Preston’s mind, far too big to be real. It’s some creature that’s a cross between a bear and a dragon and the ties that have it leashed it into place look ready to burst. 

The booth attendant looks like he wants to argue, but he must see something in Stan’s eyes, so he gives him more arrows. Stan goes back to popping balloons and Preston tries again, “You know, there _are_ other games…”

“Like what? The ring toss? The milk bottles? Those things are rigged to high heaven! Only way to win those is to knock out the carnie runnin’ ‘em. No – balloons are harder to fix. Just – need – the – right – aim!” The last few words are hissed as he pops balloon after balloon and Preston has to admit, it _is_ impressive.

He decides to say as much, “Well, you _are_ a fair marksmen.”

Stan just huffs at that.

“But then…so is Ford.”

“Ford!” Stan laughs bitterly and tosses another arrow, “Ford can’t hit the broadside of a barn! Christ, you should’ve seen him when we was kids! He couldn’t hit shit with a water gun, BB gun – nothing!”

“Well, while he might be lacking in the common definition of the word, I was speaking more along the lines of his insight about you.”

Another dark laugh, “Insight about me?”

Preston nods, “And your fears.”

Another balloon explodes under Stan’s wrath and he turns to Preston, eyes narrowed, “And what do _you_ know about it?”

“I know that you have been oddly quiet of late. That you gave both Ford and myself copies of the EP, but not Fidds nor any of the others. That you make sure to leave the room when we play your music and that you haven’t even attempted to…”

“I’m _not_ afraid!” Stan stops the talking and he smacks the leftover arrows on the counter. He makes a frustrated grunt, tugging at his ponytail and fidgeting before crossing his arms to continue hotly, “I’m _not_!”

“Perhaps,” Preston says coolly, “But you have certainly been dismissive of your accomplishment.”

“My accomplishment,” Stan inhales and looks away. He looks over all the people and the rides and lights and for a while Preston’s not sure he’ll speak again until he hears a soft, “It’s…part of me.”

Stan meets Preston’s eyes, “You know? It’s…I mean, it sounds so dumb. So fucking stupid. Sayin’ it out loud. But the music, the songs…they’re part of me. If…if people don’t like ‘em…”

“You’re worried they won’t like you,” Preston concludes and Stan counters quickly, “I don’t give a shit what people think about me!” 

Preston is just as fast, “Maybe, but you _do_ give a shit what they think about the album, because – as you said – it’s part of you. You don’t want to put yourself out there and be hurt. Be rejected. What you did isn’t an accomplishment to you, is it? It’s something more personal than that.”

Stan turns back to the arrows. He picks one up and plays with it, eyes focused on it as he says, “You sound like Ford’s shrink. Mean, I’ve never _met_ the lady, but I’ll bet a million bucks you sound just like her right now…”

Preston’s lips twitch up on one side, “Well, I _have_ taken my fair share of psychology classes these past two semesters.”

“Funny,” Stan mutters and he tosses an arrow. He finally misses. Preston touches his shoulder again, “Stanley, Ford’s approach was…clumsy. Beyond clumsy. But he’s just worried about you. That’s all. He loves you and he’s proud of you and he wants others to feel the same. I understand. I’m much the same.”

Stan grins and looks at him with hooded eyes, “You love me, huh?”

“I-I-! Uh, ha ha, well, I-!” Preston’s never actually _said_ the phrase. Neither to Ford or Stan. Still, Stan loves to work him up. He takes Preston by the stupid white sweater he has tied around his neck and tugs him close, kissing him. 

Preston returns it, but, as with Ford, he’s bashful in the act. Stan makes sure to cup his ass again, to really claw at each cheek and press their bodies together as intimately as possible. He feels the tremor that works through Preston’s body and draws back with a wink, “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Preston clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head, looking wonderfully ruffled. He shoots a look around, obviously still wary of watchful eyes. But no one is paying them any mind and the guy running the booth just seems relived the flurry of arrows and popping balloons has ended. In fact, he’s tugging an overly sized bear dragon from the back when Ford appears.

Ford looks terribly contrite as he approaches Stan, but before he can even open his mouth to apologize, Stan waves him off, “Forget it, Sixer. No sorry necessary. Here, won you something…”

He reaches out to snag the earlier owl rhino from behind the booth and tosses it to his brother. The booth attendant, not noticing the quick theft under the considerable bulk of the bear dragon, hands this toy over and Stan clarifies, “But I got this for Pres. Seein’ as this is his first fair and on accounta the fact he didn’t torque me off at one point.”

Ford just clutches the toy and grins, “Understood. And Stan?”

He charges up to his twin and throws his arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. Stan staggers a little under the passionate attack and Preston just grins while he struggles to get a grip on his oversized prize.

 

+

 

The fair is closing down when they pass the photo booth. It’s one of the old fashioned ones without all the glitter and jazz of the newer models. No bells or whistles. No glittery sentiments attached to your pictures or stickers. Just the pictures themselves.

And it’s big enough for three. 

Preston, Ford, and Stan clamber inside and with some combinations of their pocket change, they manage to get three strips of pictures. Each strip is the same. Each strip has four photos running down a row. 

The first shows Preston sandwiched between a lovey-dovey Ford and Stan. The second is Stan and Preston cuddling while Ford laughs. The third is Ford and Preston kissing and Stan rolling his eyes. 

The last is the three of them all crowed close together, happy and whole, and not at all prepared for the future that lay before them.


End file.
